The Black Sheep
by MeandPizzatheOTP
Summary: Emily Stone was an interesting competitor in the 75th Hunger Games. She planned to win - or was going to die trying. Either way, she intended to give Panem the biggest show of their lives, and tear the Capitol down in the process.


The Black Sheep

Emily Stone was a rather peculiar little girl. For example, she was never one to cry, not even in her darkest moments. Being from district 10, this was odd - seeing as life in the lowly livestock district is more often than not, just a continuous dark moment. The people were just like the cattle they farmed - easily led, not renowned for fighting back against the system - no matter which dark path they were led down.

Whilst district 10 went through famine - Emily found it very ironic that the farming district were allowed next to no food to feed themselves - it was common to cry. District 10 was not tough nor did it possess any collective ability to simply keep themselves alive, for the majority. And so, many died - so much so, in fact, that the corpses were often used as supplement for slop for the pigs - or so the gossip of the district said.

And yet, throughout the sorrow and the mourning, Emily and what was left of her family were gritting their teeth and surviving.

Her father Luther was a man to be admired. Whilst district 10 was falling apart, he went against the system. He was not livestock, he was not prey - he was a hunter. A man that had lost his soul mate, and his two little girls. Pieces of himself that he would never get back - pieces that should have ripped away sanity also. He was a strong man, and Emily idolised him for his determination to carry on when everything seemed bleak. Her father was her hero.

Once upon a time he had been a farmer, before things got rough. Emily was the youngest of 3 sisters and 2 brothers, and the apple of Luthers eye. Due to her seemingly all consuming apathy, however, she wasn't very much liked by her mother. More to the point, Emily unnerved her, with her silent stare and steely grey eyes that seemed to possess a disturbing knowledge of the desolate world around her. Emily's mother stayed away from her - and so it was no surprise that when she died, Emily still did not cry. She barely gave it recognition, being too young too understand permanent implications of being dead. She carried on, now having to help her father slaughter the cows at the barn.

Emily worked long and hard, long enough to be desensitised to the stench of death, and the light leaving a creatures eyes. Therefore, she only mourned for her sister's deaths for a short period of time - unlike her father, who's heart was torn into shreds - shreds he put back together in his resolve to keep his last remaining daughter alive. They stopped working to feed the Capitol, and started working to feed themselves.

Luthers daughter was not much of a daughter - she wasn't an example of femininity, nor was she dependant on her father - but their bond was strong all the same. Emily often went out hunting on her own, not wanting to be told how to hunt by her brothers, or to be given directions by her father. Her family did not really know how she did it - however, she always came back with game, so they didn't question her. The only time she spent with her father was when he was teaching her skills to survive. "Emily, you are my treasure - and I will make sure you are preserved, no matter what conditions you may encounter," He would tell her often, whilst he taught her how to defend herself with her hands. When he gave her gifts, they were not dresses or jewellery - but knives. Any weapon he could afford, he would buy. This was not a present he forced on her. She received them gladly, even seeking them out herself. Her brothers were jealous of her receiving all of their fathers devotion - and too wary of her to challenge her.

Her build was surprising for a young woman living in district 10. Brown hair cropped to her sharp jawline that made her look lack the classical, delicate femininity - and a muscular frame that made most of the boys at her school seem inadequate - which, Emily figured, wasn't that impressive, seeing as most of the young men at her school were too busy fighting starvation to fight anything else.

She often felt guilty that she never went without food whilst her classmates were hungry - but to let out that you were doing well whilst your community was in shambles would be an imminent death sentence, to say the least. Jealousy and the insanity-inducing hunger that consumed everyone would be chanelled into hostility, and word would soon get to the peace keepers that the Stone family were hunting illegally - the weak herd mentality had left district 10 hopeless and institutionalised. Many of the students at the school were dropping out of education like flies, to help their families work on the farms - and soon, the Capitol would have squeezed every drop of sanctity of life from the district. This fact was set in stone, comfirmed annual reminder that lingered in every bodies memories like a putrid stench of human spirit being toyed with and broken. Whilst all non-career districts were suffering, district 10 's fire had long gone out.

Emily didn't worry much about the Hunger Games. Emily didn't worry much, full stop. In this life, you were born to die, and there wasn't much room in between the two to truly live. Emily lived in a way her peers couldn't. She enjoyed her work, and she enjoyed knowing that even when her father couldn't provide for them, she could. Being self sufficient was a luxury that only her family could enjoy, the rest of the district being dependant on the Capitol for rations, that they exchanged for more death tickets in the reaping bowl with your name on it. Emily was the last sibling eligible for the reaping, being 17 years old, and her name had been entered so few times, and her peers so many, that the probability of her being this year's competitor was almost impossible.

Her father, however, was feeling the weight of the event much heavier. He loved the bones of her, he invested what was left in himself in her, and if she died, so would his resolve to carry on. She was a spark of light in a world of darkness, and he could not live if that spark went out.

"Emily, why are you still in your work clothes?" Luther asked in a strained tone, running his hand through his dirty blonde hair. "You need to get into your reaping dress before you .." He trailed off awkwardly, not quite knowing how to word it. "Uh ... before it starts."

Emily did not look up from cleaning her knives. She must have looked quite sinister, coated in mud and specs of crimson, scrubbing blood from her weapons. It had been a rare day in which she had caught a deer - lately their diet had consisted of rabbit - and she had just finished preparing it. She assumed this was a sign that things were looking up.

"Dresses don't suit me dad. I look like a man trying on his wife's clothes." Emily replied airily. "And if I was picked, I'm assuming looking like this would work more in my favour."

Luther scowled. "Don't joke about those kind of things." Then his face softened. "You don't look like a man... You look like an Amazon warrior - especially in that dress." He gave her a smile, and she returned it with a slight roll of her eyes. "Just get cleaned up and put it on. Please." And when she nodded, he left the room as silently as he entered.

Her dress was no doubt one of the nicer in the community - although, that wasn't saying much. It was plain and white, a simple, light little thing that flowed to her lower thigh - a bit revealing for Emily, but that was unavoidable, being 5'11 . Her father had saved and traded for months to buy it, and Emily mused that the dress was worth next to nothing in the career districts. The dress was worth so much to her father, though, which meant she didn't mind wearing it as much as she would any other girly piece of clothing she might have somehow aquired. She looked in the mirror, decided she didn't really care if the dress looked good or not, and made her way to the front door. "Dad, it's time," she called into the silence of the house. "Kiran, Jason, get your asses at this door pronto, can't be late for my possible chance of certain death!"

Kiran called back from up the stairs. "I wish!"

Emily gave a short laugh "You couldn't live without me!" Her mouth turned upwards into a grin. "Literally, you couldn't catch a cold, never mind dinner."

"Ha ha, maybe you can laugh your way out of the annual bloodbath lottery, Chuckles." Jason chimed in predictably, and Emily laughed loudly and pointedly.

A few moments later she could hear the thuds of the men on the creaky, worn wooden stairs.

As her father joined then, they left for the reaping, an air of slight discomfort setting.

The routine was familiar and tiresome. Peace keepers surrounded the square, keeping the herd in control. Emily felt uncomfortable as the crowd murmured and jittered like hens, worried about what the 75th Hunger Games would bring. Emily didn't bother trying to talk to the other girl shaking in her section. She just waited, and endured the tiresome charade that was the praise of the Capitol, or more so President Snow, until the names of those damned to spend their last days being preyed upon and, probably sooner rather than later - be sliced, mangled and savagely mutilated beyond recognition in the gruesome bloodbath that was the Hunger Games.

Opal Shimmers, the districts escorts, stepped forward in hideously green, ruffled attire. 'What a shitty name,' Emily thought, 'fit for a shitty woman.'

"Welcome," She boomed, "To the 75th annual Hunger Games!" Opal smiled widely, and Emily would bet any money that her gleeming white teeth were faker than that pompous Capitol accent. "Let me start by choosing the lucky lady competing for our district!" The purple haired, slightly green skinned woman stepped forward and glided towards the reaping bowl. "And that lucky lady would be..." Opal paused to let her black-coated claws dance around the names. The entire square was silent. No matter how indocrinated into society the practice become, it never became less terrifying. "Emily Stone!"

The brunettes breathing hitched slightly, before the camera's could catch it. Her startled expression melted into apathy so quickly, it was almost as if Emily hadn't been afraid, not even for a second. The crowd was silent as her face the big screen. Emily clenched her jaw as she stared directly into the camera. Her family watched, mouths agape as they watched her stride up without hesitation, her gaze as hard as steel. She did not falter as she stepped onto the stage, her grey orbs staring hauntingly and unsettlingly into the crowd. It was a moment that disquitened Panem, and thrilled the game makers of that year. Emily was an interesting competitor - both wanting to win to get back to her father, to prove his investment was worth something, and yet not afraid to die trying.

It seemed like a lifetime before Opal finally composed herself and chose the next competitor. Emily looked at him without a glimmer of empathy. The poor bastard had a limp - Emily would not focus her efforts into feeling for a boy that was going to die in the bloodbath.

And then, the reaping for district 10 were over, and the doors opened, and soon were slammed shut, trapping them inside.

-._.-._-

Share your thoughts on this one, I'll need motivation to carry on.


End file.
